


Inconsequential Kiss

by kagme



Series: Every reality with you [9]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagme/pseuds/kagme
Summary: Kissing has always been inconsequential for Brett.A kiss is just a touch, after all, a touch of lips, not that different from the way Eddy’s hand drags down from his shoulder to his elbow, certainly not as intimate as the way they look at each other when they play Navarra together.It wouldn’t have any consequences, would it?There is movement at the corner of his eyes. Eddy moving in his space as he always does.Then sets to prove Brett wrong. As he often does.It starts shaky, with hands trembling around his cheeks.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Every reality with you [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081190
Comments: 17
Kudos: 135





	Inconsequential Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :) have a small one shot centered around Brett’s experiences of kissing. I was supposed to write it last weekend but it took me longer than expected to be satisfied with it.
> 
> Thank you so much Ria for the beta reading!
> 
> It’s very sweet and fluffy, I hope it’s gonna warm your heart a bit for this Christmas season :) I hope everyone is having a nice time.

Kissing has always been inconsequential for Brett. 

He didn’t think about it before it happened for the first time, and after it did happen, it had lost its significance.

It was just something nice to do during sex, a direct way of making someone understand he would like to spend a night with them, a fun bet, a party game.

He’s kissed friends, strangers, lovers, acquaintances, younger, older, girls, boys, non-binary - never any lasting consequences. If he was rejected then so be it, his ego would heal. No big deal.

  
  


*

> _Blurry memories of heat and contact, dancing with too much alcohol in his blood, releasing the stress of finals through mindless moves on too loud beats._
> 
> _So freeing - being a uni student. No parents waiting for him at home, judging how drunk he is, no sneaking around to go back to his room. The year is over, the only thing waiting for him tomorrow is to nurse his hangover in peace and call Eddy to guilt-trip him into coming to take care of him with bubble tea and aspirin._
> 
> _He smiles in the sea of bodies._
> 
> _Thoughts are slipping away._
> 
> _Rhythm in his head - no more reason._
> 
> _Sweat making his glasses slide down his nose._
> 
> _A body grinding against his._
> 
> _A cock nudging against his arse._
> 
> _Good feeling._
> 
> _He turns around._
> 
> _The guy looks nice._
> 
> _Blond hair, chest strong under his running fingers, lips full and damp with sweat and alcohol._
> 
> _He wants to kiss him._
> 
> _He will never remember what the rest of his face is like._
> 
> _Just the heat of palms on his hips. The drag of lips against his own._
> 
> _Heat and saliva and hands everywhere and the beat vibrating through him._
> 
> _It all feels so, so nice._
> 
> _The rest is lost in fog, but he knows they never went past heavy petting and dirty kissing._
> 
> _Until Phoebe drags him from the dancefloor and half-carriesies him to his bed at around three in the morning._
> 
> _When morning lights come and Eddy barges in the next day without Brett even prompting him to, only stops laughing at how much of a mess Brett is to hand him water and aspirin, the memory of the kiss is already forgotten, inconsequential in the face of his best friend’s dorky smile and the promise of bubble tea._

*

It always made him roll his eyes, the way Eddy freaked out about his first kiss, the way he would be so shaky before a date, the way he would tell Brett every detail the lead up to the kiss at the end of it, a dreamy smile on his face.

Because of this, every kiss Eddy shared somehow seemed more personal than his own. He remembers them better- the people his best friend kissed, the lead up to it, the context, while the ones Brett lip locked with are but a blurry memory.

He should probably be more worried about this than he is. 

*

> _“Dude, you’re just gonna be late if you keep changing.”_
> 
> _“I looked fat in that shirt.”_
> 
> _“No you- you know what? I won’t even argue with you,” Brett decides to ignore his best friend in favor of scrolling on Facebook._
> 
> _The phone doesn’t last three seconds in his hands before being taken away from him._
> 
> _“Have you seen my mints?”_
> 
> _He has half a mind to be irritated but Eddy looks so honestly distraught, he resigns himself to keep being a supportive best friend._
> 
> _“Here, take mine,” he sighs and gets a pack of gum from his bag, throwing it at his friend’s chest._
> 
> _“Thanks.”_
> 
> _It’s not even as if it was his first date, but twenty-year-old-uni-student Eddy somehow manages to be as dramatic as seventeen-year-old-high-school-boy Eddy._
> 
> _“You know she’s not gonna expect you to have a perfectly fresh breath after a restaurant right?”_
> 
> _“I don’t want the memory of my first kiss with her to be tainted by my bad breath.”_
> 
> _Absolute sap._
> 
> _“Absolute sap,” he says out loud, because he’s not kind enough to contain himself._
> 
> _Eddy snorts but is otherwise too busy battling with his jacket and combing his hair to answer. He must decide he looks good enough because he finally steps away from the mirror._
> 
> _“If you’re asleep when I come back, I’ll tell you tomorrow how it went!” he yells from the door of their dorm room._
> 
> _“Please don’t,” Brett grumbles despite already knowing he won’t have a choice in the matter._
> 
> _Then the door slams and he’s alone in the silence._
> 
> _There’s this weird ache in his heart every time it happens._
> 
> _It always makes him feel a little lonely, that Eddy takes dating this seriously. Like a sneak peak at what their lives will be when his best friend inevitably marries, when Brett won’t be the most important person anymore._
> 
> _He knows he’s selfish, but his best friend_ is _his most important person, he would give up everything for him. And every time Eddy fusses over a girl like that, he feels unimportant, relegated to a second thought, a support role. Accessory in the face of the true love Eddy’s chasing after._
> 
> _Maybe he should go to that party Josh was talking about, after all._

  
  


*

Those thoughts have been over for a long time now, he wants to hit his past self on the back of the head for being so uselessly angsty.

He should have trusted Eddy; he shouldn’t have needed fifteen years of devotion and friendship to realize he was never in second place.

A smile is threatening to climb on his lips as he can feel a gaze burning into the side of his head.

“Bro, aren’t you supposed to be practicing?” he looks up from his computer.

“I’m hungry.”

“And you think if you stare at me enough, I’ll get up and make you food?”

“Maybe?”

“You’re a dog.”

Eddy laughs after him, isn’t offended. Because Brett gets up and makes him food.

Plates are clicking together from behind him, the smell of fried rice drifts from the pan he’s stirring. There’s the press of a chest against his back as Eddy reaches for the glasses in the cupboard above him and Brett drowns in the comfort it brings him.

He feels so ridiculously happy, living with his best friend in Singapore, playing the violin together and watching TwoSet grow.

Eddy is twenty-seven, still hasn’t married anyone, and the same selfish part that never completely died down hopes things will stay like this for as long as possible. Their lives are too intertwined now, there is no future for Brett without Eddy, it would be like ripping half of him and try to stumble forward with limbs missing.

“Wine or water?”

“Water, I hate practicing after drinking, everything feels fuzzy.”

“Good point,” Eddy hums in his ear and the low voice gets a shiver from him.

There is one downside about this situation: he thinks about it more and more.

  
  
  
  


Kissing his best friend.

He always has, at random times, the way you pass over a puppy and want to pet it. See if it’s as soft as it looks. The way you wonder what your life would be if you had followed a different career. He blinks, imagines how his lips would feel pressed against his. A surprise intake of breath? Kissing back? Then it stops, he gets distracted by the next Instagram post, by how good his bubble tea is, and the thought is gone.

This train of thought doesn’t seem strange. It’s only natural curiosity; Eddy and him never kissed, so he wonders.

He never crossed the line though, never allowed himself to let it go from vague fantasy to actual craving.

This isn’t because Eddy would judge him, or be weirded out.

Oh no, he is too open minded for that.

*

> _The seat of the booth is a welcome reprieve for his wobbly legs, tired after hours of dancing. His friends are passing beer around and he snags a glass for himself, wondering where Eddy went._
> 
> _The music is blaring and he’s starting to have a headache, he loves hanging out with his friends at the club, but maybe they should consider heading home soon._
> 
> _“Damn, man, after that kiss you could have the decency to at least bed her,” Josh snickers and raises his eyebrow at the woman who just snogged him._
> 
> _When he had felt her lips against his, he didn’t push her back, just enjoyed the contact for a while before slithering away, hadn’t given it much thought, not realising his friends could see him from their table._
> 
> _“What part of ‘gay’ d’you fail to understand?” Emma rolls her eyes at Josh._
> 
> _“Why’s he kissing girls if he’s gay, then? I don’t get you mate,”_
> 
> _Brett just shrugs, starting to get uncomfortable with this line of discussion. Is it that weird? Should he give more thought into kissing?_
> 
> _“Is there a word for being a kissing whore?” another one of their friends jokes and Brett laughs._
> 
> _He doesn’t find it funny._
> 
> _There is uneasiness at the bottom of his stomach. It does sound really bad when put like this._
> 
> _Then a body sliding on the booth presses against his side and he can feel himself relax without even glancing over to check who it is._
> 
> _“Brett does whatever the fuck he wants,” Eddy inserts himself in the discussion. “It’s not anyone’s place to judge.”_
> 
> _His voice cuts through like ice, calm and low, out of place in the lighthearted ambiance. As usual, the idiot can’t take social cues._
> 
> _“You sound way too sober,” Alex giggles, definitely sounding not sober enough._
> 
> _“And way too serious,” Josh snorts. “We’re just joking, chill. I mean, huh,” he looks uncertain then, sending Brett a guilty look. “You’re not offended, right? If you are, sorry, really didn’t want to make you feel bad.”_
> 
> _“Nah, I’m cool, mate,” he smiles. “But Eddy’s right, I do whatever the fuck I want.”_
> 
> _Everyone laughs and the weird tension that had started to build up around their table dies down, but he can still feel Eddy leaning a bit more into him and his heart swells._
> 
> _Idiot._
> 
>   
>    
>    
>    
> 
> 
> _He wants to say thank you, the day after, when he had time to digest just how grateful he is for Eddy Chen. But he knows he won’t find the words - he says thank you to Eddy all the time, how can he make this one sound different? - so he stops in the middle of scales during their practice session. Eddy shoots him a quizzical glance but Brett takes a breath and launches himself in the first movement of the Korngold Violin Concerto - one of Eddy’s all time favorites._
> 
> _His tone is sweet, full and round. He misses a few notes - he hasn’t practiced the piece in a while - but it doesn’t really matter._
> 
> _There is something in his best friend's eyes as Brett plays for him. They exchange a smile over the violin._
> 
> _He doesn’t make fun of Eddy when his voice cracks after the impromptu performance._

  
  


*

So, no, if he were to kiss his best friend out of the blue, there would be no judgment, no disgust - he doesn’t know if Eddy’s even capable of that.

But a kiss is an important thing for Eddy, he cherishes every single one, and Brett doesn’t want to do something that would leave an imprint impossible to erase on his best friend because of a whim. 

He should find a way to deal with the situation before it gets out of control.

Because the more he entertains the thought at the back of his mind, the more he can see it happening.

He has been so busy with TwoSet, practice and the move to Singapore, he hasn’t gone out in a while. No kissing, no fun times between the sheets and while it isn’t that big of a loss most of the time, the reflex to just kiss skin when it is close to him is still there.

And. Eddy is. Touchy. Very.

It’s worse since they officially moved in together.

Whenever Eddy moves around him, he lets a hand rest on his shoulder, on his elbow, on his hip, on his waist, wherever he can reach, as if to map Brett out, to be sure of where he stands in their shared space. 

When they sit next to each other, his whole side is warmed by a body pressed against his, and when they don’t, on opposite sides of the sofa, their legs are intertwined before he can realize it and the hairs on Eddy’s calf tickle his skin.

Sometimes when they go out, it’s a hand at the small of his back, knuckles brushing over his to get his attention, casual in his affection.

Then there are the times his best friend reverts back to a five years old, either when he’s drunk or just needy. Fingers pulling at his ear, stealing his glasses, messing up his hair, grabbing his shirt, clawing on his arm, seeking contact with annoying whines and Brett retorts by digging between his ribs, not stopping, vicious in his attack until Eddy shrieks and pleads.

This is where they are, and the Thought crosses his mind once more. 

They had wine tonight with dinner, some of the burgundy color clings to the inside of Eddy’s lips, in the dry indents left by his teeth. He wants to taste it. There is an invitation the alcohol is maybe making him imagine on his best friend’s face. 

There is also an open email for the TwoSet Apparel team on his computer that is definitely not the result of imagination, and he should probably get back to that.

He smiles down at Eddy and tickles him one last time, gets one last laugh before he gets his glasses back, sitting properly once again to resume work, however not managing to shake off the desire to just turn around, absorb the way his best friend is laying down on the couch, hair wild and skin red, and maybe steal a kiss.

Because the ease with which Eddy touches Brett makes Brett drown further into skewed reasoning. A kiss is just a touch, after all, a touch of lips, not that different from the way Eddy’s hand drags down from his shoulder to his elbow, certainly not as intimate as the way they look at each other when they play Navarra together.

It wouldn’t have any consequences, would it?

  
  


There is movement at the corner of his eyes. Eddy moving in his space as he always does.

  
  


Then sets to prove Brett wrong. As he often does.

  
  
  
  
  


It starts shaky, with hands trembling around his cheeks.

Eddy’s face is determined and fearful all at once.

The world is silent.

“What are you…”

The ‘ _doing’_ never passes his lips, because his answer is pressed against them. 

He was wrong. He was so wrong.

This feels important. Consequential. Mind shattering.

This is making him reconsider every decision he ever made, like his life is never going to be the same.

An intake of breath, it tickles his lips. His chest is burning, his stomach is turning.

He starts shaking too.

Then it’s all over.

Eddy steps back, and Brett’s whole life has changed.

They’re still both shaking.

Another step back; Eddy is trying to evade.

Panic flutters, Brett discards his computer, his arm shoots up and grabs him by the wrist, tugging him closer.

“No, no, don’t run away. Please, again.”

His own voice is so soft, as if Eddy were a scared animal he had to tame into coming back.

He gets up, stands on his tiptoes, tilts his head, doesn’t give Eddy a choice before pressing their lips together.

Brett gets to enjoy the kiss properly this time. He can feel Eddy’s pulse ricocheting, where his fingers are wrapped around his wrist, his lips are a bit dry, they do taste of wine. There is something unfurling in his chest, a tightly wound ball of love, knotted over the years, that spreads and fills him.

Eddy is barely responsive, frozen in place, as if he wasn’t the one who had initiated it in the first place. 

So he stops, his heels touch the floor again but they are still so close he can feel the short and quivering breath hitting his lips.

“Why?” he whispers, eyes wide.

Because Eddy isn’t like this, he must have a reason for kissing him. And Brett feels like his whole life depends on the answer.

Eddy is searching his eyes for something, too open.

The vulnerability between them is shattering.

He can physically see his best friend overthinking.

“I just- wanted to.” Eddy hides behind his words. “You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t. It’s important for you.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Well, maybe I did too.”

“Did you?” Eddy’s voice is small, uncertain. Brett can’t answer right now, because there is too much happening, his mind isn’t working fast enough to deal with the discussion, he’s trying to wrap his brain around it, but it’s too late. “It doesn’t matter, I wanted to kiss you, so I did, it’s not that important.”

He knows Eddy is lying, he knows this isn’t how he works.

He doesn’t understand why his best friend isn’t being truthful.

Has Eddy somehow forgotten Brett has been in the front row in the theater of his life for more than half of it? That he was there before Eddy’s every date? That he has suffered seeing him being the mushiest person ever with Toni? That he heard every rant about creating the perfect setting for a kiss?

How can he think for half a second that Brett is going to buy this bullshit?

This pisses him off, somehow.

“Oh, so we are like that, huh? We can just- we are the kind of friends who can kiss each other like that?”

He’s trying to provoke Eddy in being truthful, trying to nudge honesty from him.

“I- yeah? We can be.”

The utter _fucker_.

Then Eddy backtracks, doesn’t even own up his words, goes hiding in his room with an awkward good night.

Brett falls back on the couch. He can’t process what just happened. 

His lips still tingle, the heat in his chest is now pooling in his stomach and he stays there for two hours.

He ends up taking his computer back on his laps, he finishes his email - on autopilot, he hopes what he’s typing is making sense - because he’s serious like that.

Then he opens a note and starts trying to sorts the jumble of his thoughts.

It’s one in the morning when he is done.

The note looks very simple.

_I want to kiss Eddy._

_I thought it wouldn’t matter._

_Eddy kissed me._

_It mattered to me._

_Eddy pretended it didn’t._

_Eddy lied._

_Eddy told me we could just kiss each other like that._

_Eddy ran away._

_I’m in love with Eddy._

Simple.

Now he just has to drag honestly from his best friend. 

*

From then on, Brett indulges. There is some revenge in there, maybe the gestures aren’t just born of affection but of pettiness, because Eddy didn’t tell him the truth. Had the audacity to change his life then run away.

And now, every time the fleeting idea of kissing him crosses his mind, he acts on it.

It starts early. Or well, around noon. When Eddy drags himself out of bed, looking like he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

Brett hands him his coffee as his best friend sags in a chair of the kitchen, rattles on about today’s program, the videos they have to film, and the second the cup is empty and Eddy’s mouth is free, he leans down and kisses him.

It tastes different, this time. There is coffee on his breath and laziness between them, their lips drag slowly and Brett’s morning takes a different flavor. He has a hand on the table, another at the back of the chair, effectively trapping his best friend. Not that it matters as Eddy isn’t trying to get away. He feels fingers on his jaw, tentative.

His heart threatens to spill at how careful the touch is. 

He exhales against lips, lets them rest against each other for a small while, not used to how deeply the simple contact makes him feel.

Then he straightens up and Eddy blinks at him with a lost and confused expression - this is a little bit adorable, so he leans down again, gives him a small peck just because he can.

The confusion spreads further in his best friend’s face.

“You did say we could be the kind of friends who kiss just like that,” he raises his eyebrows, daring Eddy to take back his words.

“I, yes but- I meant- this is-” his voice is raspy and not fully awake. Brett thinks he won then and there, Eddy will _have_ to explain the kiss from yesterday. He can feel eyes raking his face, then his best friend’s expression takes on a pained edge. “No, you’re right. I did say that.”

He pads away to his room like a sad puppy, getting dressed for the day, missing the way Brett’s jaw unhinges. 

Eddy is supposed to be _smart._

Well if he wants to keep up the charade, two can play at this game.

*

But as much as he wants to be punitive, every kiss turns back against him.

Everything he repressed is pouring from him in little touches, each time their lips meet. He feels too much, there is care and adoration in the way he moves his mouth against the other, it shifts his perspective of the world a bit. Each kiss is more important, more consequential than the previous. 

It doesn’t always turn his stomach over, or make his heart skyrocket. But every contact feels like he rediscovers himself while forgetting he exists.

It’s all so natural, fits into the cracks of filming and practicing, a kiss here and there while brainstorming, in between videos, when Eddy tunes his violin.

Every single one of them is imprinted in his memory already.

*

They are out, drinking at a bar, enjoying the music, a singer on the open scene trailing words in a language they don’t know. It sounds latin, romantic. The lights are shifting, orange, and their skin glows golden.

He doesn’t remember how maybe drinks they’ve had, Eddy getting up and coming back with two full glasses every time they empty them. His eyes shine, and he’s sashaying his hips with the slow beats of the song, teeth out like the dork he is. He looks absolutely ridiculous and Brett loves him. 

He kisses him again, he stopped counting how many times it had been since the first time, but it always feels new and familiar at the same time. The rum on Eddy’s lip is different from their usual wine, it’s stronger, his head’s spinning and he’s losing track of his senses already. Lightweight. Maybe that applies to kissing as well as drinking. He almost doesn’t register the hand weighing on his waist, the fingers digging in his skin, someone catcalls them and he flips them off, but it’s too late, Eddy’s warmth leaves him. Maybe the alcohol is getting to him too, because he doesn’t look embarrassed, just smiles down at Brett, and the hand tightens on him.

“What’s happening?” he asks, because he’s getting impatient, he feels like he’s drowning and he wants to end the evening in his best friend’s bed.

Not even to do anything, just to enjoy contact, to cuddle in warmth and comfort, to wake up to his stupid face snoring with his mouth open. 

“We kissed,” Eddy answers, matter of factly, as if he was the one randomly going around lip locking with strangers and acquaintances.

“That I noticed,” Brett shoots back drily, unable to stay mad when Eddy starts smiling. “Dickhead,” he stills adds for good measure. 

They stare at each other for a while, the singer stops, lets the saxophonist have his solo. The piano comes in soon after with some original chords. Jazz. He wants to make a joke, smirk ready, but Eddy’s face is serious, searching his eyes with a frown.

“What do you want?” he rasps, there’s a desperate edge to his expression.

Brett’s heart thumps harder and he licks his lips.

“More.”

He’s brutally honest tonight, can feel the heat climbing on his cheeks at how bold he sounds.

“Okay,” his best friend chokes up.

The song is sensual as they leave the bar, Eddy’s hand hot at the small of his back. Rolling “r” and stretching volleys.

They do end up in bed.

He doesn’t even know if it’s his or Eddy’s room, the sheets are cool under his palms when skin is burning. The kiss has nothing to do with the tender touches from before. It takes a filthy tune with pants, moans, and clothes scrunching as a backtrack. Fingers are not careful; they tug and pull at hair, mouths do not flutter; they devour.

Eddy’s name passes his lips at times, he hears his own breath in his ear.

They slow down once they are pressed against each other, chest and legs and groins. They grind without rush, still mostly clothed, still kissing. Heat is simmering inside of him, spreading without any rush, but consuming every part of him with a certainty he can’t avoid. 

There’s a hand under his shirt, tracing pattern over his spine, taking a gentler hue every pass.

Edges blur between blinks, sensations melt in each other, he basks in hands and lips and skin and love. 

They are too drunk to do anything else, just stay there, intertwined, until all moves cease and low moans transform in snores.

This evening is one of the best in Brett’s life.

*

It’s exactly 8:57 when Brett opens his eyes.

It’s 12:03 when Eddy groans and rolls over, throwing a leg and an arm over him, making the phone in his hand fall on his face.

Eddy opens his eyes in panic when Brett swears and massages his nose.

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” his best friend fumbles, scrambles on his knees to lean over him. “Are you okay?”

His voice is so low; scratching against his throat and coming out raspy enough to make Brett’s mouth dry. He wants to records Eddy’s morning voice and put it on repeat.

“I’m fine,” he chuckles, enjoying the way hands are fluttering around his face. “But if I have to get nose surgery, you’re paying for it.”

“We share our source of income, idiot,” Eddy grumbles without heat. “What time is it-” a glance at his phone. “Oh… What are you still doing in bed? You never stay in bed that long.”

Brett almost misses the question, too focused on the way Eddy’s voice rumbles and vibrates in his ribcage.

“I was comfortable.”

“Is that my sweatshirt?” Eddy’s frown deepens.

“Same answer.”

A snort and an amused shake of the head before he falls back on the mattress, burying his face in the pillow with a groan.

“What a shitty wake up.”

“Because I’m here?” Brett raises an offended eyebrow.

“Because I thought I hurt you.”

Everything inside him melts, fondness too strong to contain, he racks his fingers in Eddy’s hair, smile too big for his face.

“I mean,” his best friend turns back without meeting his eyes. “I just wouldn’t want to deform your precious greek god’s nose, you know. The fans would be pissed,” he tries to joke, probably tries to hide just a bit how vulnerable he was being.

“Uh huh.”

Brett doesn’t buy it, uses the opportunity and the grip his has on Eddy’s hair to kiss him again.

The smile is still on his face; he can’t help it, can’t go around the happiness bubbling inside of him.

At some point in the night, Eddy got rid of his shirt - too hot surely - his stomach is soft and his skin is warm under Brett’s hands; the touch doesn’t lead to anything else, just getting closer. Their lips are tamed too, gentle, soft. It pulls at his soul, how careful Eddy is when his hand curls around his jaw, bringing him closer, breathing against his lips with a pained exhale.

Despite how static they are, everything inside of Brett moves, curls up and expands, bits of love slashing at his heart, he feels them dance around, spill from between his lips. His throat constricts as he swallows around feelings and it’s so- it’s too much, he can’t- but then there’s salt in the kiss.

He licks Eddy’s lower lip.

It’s a tear resting there.

“Okay, you win,” Eddy chokes against his lips. “I can’t keep doing that. I suck at pretending.” The kiss is a bit more desperate, the hand on his jaw goes behind his neck, heavy. “I love you, I can’t-” the tears are fully flowing now, and Brett doesn’t have enough breath left in him to say anything. “I’m not like you- I can’t- I-”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I swear. I know. I know Eddy, I don’t want you to pretend.”

He cradles Eddy’s wet cheeks, kissing his nose and his cheeks, the corner of his eyes. He’s not used to dispense affection this way, but he knows Eddy responds well to it; his friend is calming down already, sniffing once last time before grabbing Brett in a hug, effectively stopping the flurry of kisses as his head gets smushed in Eddy’s chest.

“Sorry. I’m sorry for being so fucking sentimental. I wish I weren’t, believe me.”

Fingers digs in ribs as Brett tries to get away from the very uncomfortable hug.

“Don’t apologize for being sentimental, apologize for lying to me, damn it.”

“When did I-'' he can see the cogs turning in Eddy’s mind. “Oh. That time. Yes.”

“If by that very vague _‘that time_ ’ you mean ‘ _when I kissed you out of nowhere then said it was because I just wanted to and we could be that kind of bros that kiss each other, chill, it doesn’t matter’_ then we agree.”

“I know,” Eddy tries to meet his gaze and Brett commands the effort. “I thought- I don’t really know what I thought, I panicked. I acted on impulse and then you kissed me again, and I know it doesn’t mean the same to you. It fucking hurt and I- I just thought maybe I could get away with it if I pretended- Maybe I wouldn’t have to be rejected or fuck up our whole friendship if I said- I don’t. Ah fuck! Why can’t I express myself properly when I need it the most,” Eddy pulls at his hair with a frustrated exhale.

“I love you,” Brett blurts out.

This has the merit to cut Eddy very effectively in the middle of his rant. But he now squints at Brett with suspicion painted in his face. 

“In what way?”

“Holy- what do you think? You think I’m enough of an idiot to think _now_ is the time to make a declaration of friendship?”

“How long have you known?” Eddy’s eyes squint even further.

“Since, huh, since you kissed me, I think? But it’s been going on for way longer than that.”

He can see the last strip of guilt melting away from Eddy’s expression.

“Let me get this straight,” his best friend’s voice doesn’t sound like someone who had just been told by the love of his life that they loved him too. “I kissed you. You know how I work - stupid of me to try to fool you - you knew I very very probably loved you. You knew you loved me too, but for _weeks_ you’ve let me fumble and torture myself and fight against every one of my instincts, you’ve watched me make an absolute moron of myself because what? You were pissed I lied when I was fucking terrified of screwing everything up?”

“I- huh- I mean, I didn’t have your perspective, I-”

“God fucking- Brett! You could have saved me so much trouble! During all that time we could have been-”

“Kissing?” he raises an eyebrow.

Maybe now wasn’t exactly the time to be sassy, he has a moment to think before being engulfed in sheets and warmth and Eddy and- oh. Lips. Again.

*

Kissing has always been inconsequential for Brett. 

He didn’t think about it before it happened for the first time, and after it did happen, it had lost its significance.

It was just something nice to do during sex, a direct way of making someone understand he would like to spend a night with them, a fun bet, a party game.

He’s kissed friends, strangers, lovers, acquaintances, younger, older, girls, boys, non-binary - never any lasting consequences. If he was rejected then so be it, his ego would heal. No big deal.

“Hey,” Eddy gives him a quick peck as he passes by Brett on the couch. “I’ll be back in thirty.”

Until now.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Huh, getting bubble tea?”

“Not what I meant,” Brett leans back on the couch, exposing his face to the sun, his mouth to his partner. 

Eddy smiles, the dimple in cheek making an appearance.

“Right, sorry.”

He leans down and kisses Brett properly, hands around his cheeks, lips caressing and loving and everything Brett won’t be able to live without anymore.

“Better?”

“Better.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Here it was, first thing I wrote after MeloMania; I hope it was nice and fluffy and warm :) I’m not much of a romantic usually, but I do think kissing with some people is extra special and so intimate it can bring you to the verge of tears. Especially if you’ve know that person for 15 years ;)


End file.
